


even if

by helloearthlings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 19:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6672238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Buried alive,” Merlin contemplated, his voice light in direct contrast to the pitch dark of a casket buried underneath the earth. “That’s a new one.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	even if

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet of angst set sometime in S3. Not my headcanon, but you can definitely accept it as yours! The story behind this is that I went to go see Peter and the Starcatcher, which is an amazing play (that made me cry)! The part that I drew inspiration on for this story wasn't the sad part. I can turn anything into angst, it must be a gift. Though I would definitely expect to see another story based on the actual sad part of the show. Anyway, I hope you like it!

“Buried alive,” Merlin contemplated, his voice light in direct contrast to the pitch dark of a casket buried underneath the earth. “That’s a new one.”

Arthur puffed out a breath through his nose – whether it was a laugh or sigh, he wasn’t certain. What he did know was that he and Merlin were well and truly fucked.

His father had told him to be cautious before following a rumor that Cenred’s men were hiding in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and now he was paying for his hubris. He had charged in unaware, and many of his knights had already paid the ultimate price. He and Merlin – because of course Merlin wouldn’t leave his side for even  a second, and even Cenred’s men knew prying him away would be an impossible feat – were given a rather worse fate than a sword through the gut.

 At least with a sword, death was quick.

And even Arthur, who was nothing if not resilient, was at a complete loss for how to survive.

“I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas?” Merlin said after Arthur’s steely silence would not give way.

“No, Merlin, not as such,” Arthur couldn’t even growl; his voice was tetchy, but not angry. “What about you?”

“You’re actually asking for my advice?” Merlin chuckled, faux-shocked. “Now, in your great hour of need, you finally admit you need me?”

 _Of course I need you_ was what Arthur would say if he was a different person, but he was the crown prince of Camelot and Merlin was –

Merlin was many things. One of the things he was about to be was suffocated. Because Arthur couldn’t restrain himself, and had to go picking a fight. Merlin had advised against it multiple times, but Arthur never listened to Merlin. He felt a sting in his chest.

Then again, Merlin never listened to him either, and his manservant – okay, friend – okay, _best friend_ – had a penchant for getting in just as many nasty situations as Arthur did. The only reason they had met was because Merlin had picked a fight with him, so –

So.

Here they were, nearly five years later, and Arthur wondered how the pair of them had gotten to this point. He wasn’t sure what _this point_ was, other than imminent death and something Arthur couldn’t bring himself to name.

“I don’t _need_ you,” Arthur finally replied with more venom than he actually felt. He finally conceded defeat with a small sigh. “I’m just – glad you’re here, Merlin.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Merlin said softly, but still a bit arrogantly, as if he had won some great victory over Arthur by getting him to admit to it. “Wouldn’t want to die anywhere else.”

“We’re just going to die faster if we keep talking,” Arthur pointed out logically, but he didn’t care about that nearly as much as he would have in other circumstances. He had nearly given up all hope.

“We’re going to die no matter what,” Merlin said, and it wasn’t panicky, as Arthur would expect, just a bit glum of self-deprecating. “No one knows we’re here other than the knights – who are dead – and Cenred’s men – who put us here. And we’re going to run out of air in a couple of hours at most. Not enough time for your father to send a search party. And I mean, really – how could they find us?”

“You seem to be accepting this rather readily,” Arthur would have regarded him with skepticism, but he couldn’t make out Merlin’s shape in the dark of the box, just hear his breathing and feel one of Merlin’s legs and one of his arms pressed against his own. The box was quite large – and how the hell Cenred’s men had come across it, Arthur had no idea. The only reason they both fit so well was because Arthur had been stripped of his armor before being thrown in.

“Guess so,” Merlin said melancholically. “Still, there are worse ways to die.”

“Are you sure about that?” Arthur almost laughed.

“Yes,” Merlin said, and his voice was firm and deadly serious, but also a bit wry. “At least you’re here with me.”

And wasn’t that the crux of it? Arthur wouldn’t want to die with anyone else but Merlin. He remembered Merlin telling him, ages ago, that he would gladly be Arthur’s servant until the day he died, and Arthur wished that he could go back in time and tell Merlin that Arthur would be _his_ friend until the day _he_ died, even if he didn’t always show it.

Maybe friend wasn’t the right word.

Arthur couldn’t say that, however – he settled for bridging the tiny amount of space between their bodies to hesitantly wrap his arm around Merlin’s neck and press their heads together. He felt Merlin’s breath on his chin and the other man’s arm reach around him, placed gently on his back. Arthur would have never, ever allowed this in any other circumstance, but in the deadly dark moments before death –

Maybe he could allow other things, too.

“Merlin,” he said softly, and then again. “Merlin.”

“What is it?” Merlin murmured, arm trying to pull Arthur closer to him. Was this the kind of closeness Merlin longed for, too, or was he just reaching out for comfort in the last moments of his life?

“I just – I’ve never told you,” Arthur said quietly, not daring to finish his sentence. “I’ve never been able to.”

“To what?” Merlin asked, and Arthur wondered if he knew, or if he was oblivious. Arthur hoped he did a decent job at hiding his feelings, but Merlin had always been able to see right through him, no matter the circumstance. It was part of the reason why –

Why Arthur pulled his hand forward, out of Merlin’s hair, to press against his cheek and feel for the corner of his mouth. Once he was relatively certain he wouldn’t miss, he leaned in and pressed his lips to his friend’s.

Merlin made a surprised noise, but that quickly gave way to relaxation and a gentle tenderness, and Arthur knew Merlin would start kissing him back if Arthur gave him the chance –

Arthur pulled away, hands just barely shaking. He had never allowed himself to even come close to thinking about that, but even princes had dreams sometimes.

“Arthur,” Merlin let out a choking sound and Arthur couldn’t help but come so close that there was no distance between them, their bodies lined up perfectly against one another, and Arthur buried his face in Merlin’s neck.

“Don’t talk,” Arthur muttered a bit petulantly into Merlin’s neckerchief. “Just – just –”

Arthur couldn’t finish, but Merlin knew what he meant.

They were dying – Arthur reasoned with himself as guilt sprung up in his chest as remembered his promise to himself that this would be the one line he never crossed. Bu they were dying, and there was no hope of survival. They were dying, and Arthur was allowed to show his ultimate weakness now, because it couldn’t come back to haunt him anymore. They were dying.

They were dying.

Arthur closed his eyes tight and breathed in as much of Merlin as he could.

-

“Arthur. Arthur, wake up. I’m serious, Arthur – this isn’t morning breakfast in your bedchambers. Get the hell up, I’m somewhat worried you’re actually dead.”

Arthur gasped himself awake, shocked with the pure oxygen that was flooding through his lungs. It was fresh and crisp and Arthur gulped it in as fast as possible. “What – what happened?” he asked, memory of the casket coming back to him. “Where are we?”

He blinked up at the trees surrounding them. They were in a forest – somewhat different than the one they had been buried in, but it had to be somewhere nearby. The last sunlight of the day was trickling in through the bramble, and Arthur had to smile. He never thought he would see sunlight again, see –

Merlin.

He remembered what he had done.

“The – the Druids saved us,” Merlin began a bit awkwardly. “They could tell where we were, apparently, and had the, erm, resources to rescue us.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have bothered if they knew I was the prince,” Arthur said, somewhat uncomfortable by the fact that his life had been saved with magic, but his anxiety was definitely stemming from what he had said to Merlin – what he had done _with_ Merlin, in that moment of weakness.

He should have known better.

“Yeah, yeah – I told them to clear out before you woke up,” Merlin smiled a bit awkward, biting his lip just slightly and Arthur was struck with the horrible realization that Merlin probably remembered, too. “You were unconscious for the last bit of time we spent in there – I thought maybe you were dead, but uh, I could feel your, um, heartbeat.”

It was safe to say Merlin remembered, judging by the awkwardness of his tone. At least it was good to know Merlin felt as unsure about this as he did.

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat, forcing himself to sit up and lean against the tree stump. It was then that he took notice that it was just he and Merlin, no weapons, no packs, just the pair of them and the clothes on their backs, miles from Camelot. “I suppose we’d better start back. Hopefully we’ll catch a Camelot patrol and be able to ride some of the way home.”

“Yeah,” Merlin blinked at him a little confusedly. “Sounds good. You sure you don’t want to rest –”

He reached an arm out to touch Arthur’s shoulder, but Arthur shoved it off immediately, panic welling up inside his chest. The hurt in Merlin’s eyes soon gave way to the more familiar frustration. “Get away – I’m sure. I’m sure. Let’s go. I don’t want to worry my father, or Morgana, or – or Guinevere.”

He knew that that was a low blow, but Merlin’s eyes didn’t show it. He just sighed, and followed Arthur’s hurried footsteps toward a path through the trees. Arthur tried very hard not to look at him.

* * *

 

“Alright,” a silver chalice clattered to the floor after a long period of stony silence. “We’re talking about this whether you like it or not.”

“Haven’t you gotten it yet?” Arthur said automatically, a memory floating to his mind once more as he stared determinedly down at the half-written speech on his desk. “I decide when we need to talk.”

“Yeah, shut up,” Merlin advised, and Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes. What he didn’t do, however was look up at Merlin. It had been nearly a week since they had returned to Camelot, a week of avoidance and an overabundance of chores and awkward silences permeated by perfunctory comments and a whole lot of glaring on Merlin’s behalf.

“That’s my line,” Arthur said, hoping to distract Merlin from having this conversation with a bit of banter, which he knew that his manservant could never back down from. However, Merlin knew him too well.

“Stop trying to divert and tell me what’s going on,” Merlin said, and his voice left no room for argument. “You kissed me, Arthur.”

“Say that a bit louder, will you?” Arthur hissed, finally looking up from his papers, and Merlin’s glare was very much in place, and he didn’t look like he cared all that much about who heard.

“Oh, come on, Arthur, no one but a few servants will be in this wing of the castle,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “We need to talk about this, because when I said I would be your servant ‘til the day I die, I really hoped it wouldn’t be this miserably awkward. And I feel like it’s going to _keep_ being miserably awkward until you explain yourself and we come to some sort of agreement about this.”

“What is there to agree about?” Arthur continued putting off the point, but he knew perfectly well that Merlin would not give up.

“Okay, let’s go over the previous events that transpired – we get buried alive. You act weirdly emotional. You kiss me. You let me hold you. We survive. You begin being a royal prat once more. Does that about cover it?”

“About,” Arthur muttered, conceding defeat.

“Arthur, just talk to me,” Merlin shook his head, his voice deflating. “I’m not looking for anything with this conversation, other than you being my friend again.”

“That’s just it!” Arthur finally snapped eyes relentless as they bore down on Merlin. “We can barely be friends, Merlin. The friendship between us is barely tolerated. Anything more –”

“Oh, so you do feel something more for me?” Merlin openly challenged him, eyes bright and giving away nothing of his own feelings as Arthur winced at the exposure of his. “Because I wasn’t sure if it was that or you just wanting comfort because you thought you would die. Is that it? You thought you would die? We’ve almost died together dozens of times before – why now?”

“Because for the first time, I didn’t see a way out!” Arthur sprung up from his seat, because he couldn’t have a shouting match while sitting down, constantly having to look up at Merlin. He still had to gaze up just slightly, with Merlin being taller than him, but he liked to pretend otherwise. “I didn’t think we would make it, and we were – alone.”

“And you wanted to,” Merlin said, quietly this time. “You wanted to kiss me.”

“Who would want to kiss an ugly mug like _yours_?” Arthur snapped, but the heat wasn’t there. He fell back on calling Merlin ugly because the truth was much more horrible – at least for Arthur’s sanity.

“Arthur,” Merlin shook his head a bit sadly. “ _Why_ didn’t you tell me?”

“Because nothing could ever come of it,” Arthur’s tone matched Merlin’s as he forced himself to explain. Arthur could never be with him, but he deserved that much. “I never had a choice – and if I did, I already made it. I chose Guinevere a long time ago. And I love her, I do. But – but not in the way –”

He broke off, and they were both silent until Arthur spoke again. “I’m sorry. I always have – felt for you, Merlin. Probably since the beginning. But that kiss – that was a moment of weakness. Of sentimentality that I can’t afford to have as the future king of Camelot.”

“I’d say you deserve to be happy,” Merlin said quietly after a moment’s silence. “But I know you’ll be happy with Gwen, king with your queen by your side. I would never want to jeopardize that. But I want you to know that I feel the same way about you.”

Arthur would never admit it, but his heart stuttered just a bit. “You – you do?”

“Of course I do, Arthur,” Merlin said, infinite tenderness in his voice, and his arm moved just slightly as if he was going to reach across the desk between them toward Arthur, but he stopped, thinking better of it. “But I understand your thoughts on the matter, and honestly? It will probably be much easier for me, too, if we never pursue this.”

“Not to belittle you, Merlin, but you’re a servant,” Arthur laughed, though the sound was weak. “I can hardly think that being – being _with_ a prince could be anything but beneficial to you.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, Arthur,” Merlin said, laughing as well, though it was a strained sound, and for some reason, Arthur didn’t doubt him. In all their years together, he had never been able to puzzle Merlin out. He would always be a bit of an enigma to Arthur. “And I have things that I need to accomplish as well, and I already care about you too much to do them with any sort of efficiency.”

“Talking about your chores, are we?” Arthur tried to joke, but it fell flat. They were both quiet.

“We never have to talk about this again,” Merlin told him, and it sounded like a promise. Even though it was what Arthur wanted, it still hurt, especially now knowing that Merlin could be his – that he could be Merlin’s. “I’m fine with this – the way things are. I just have one request.”

“What’s that?” Arthur said, genuinely unsure.

“One last moment of weakness,” Merlin gave him a crooked half-smile before striding around the desk and wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck, and his lips pressed against Arthur’s mouth.

This was both nothing and everything like their kiss in the casket. It was soft, and gentle, but it lasted so much longer, and Merlin let Arthur kiss him back, let Arthur’s shaking hands touch his side, ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair. Arthur let out a hitched sound that he would deny until the end of his days, and tried to appreciate every single moment of this before it was over and he would never have it again.

When they finally broke apart, Arthur gazed at Merlin with complete and unreserved wonder.

“What if –” he began, strangled, “what if I’m not fine with the way things are?”

Merlin smiled sadly, and leaned up to kiss Arthur’s forehead before breathing in his ear, in a voice of utmost regret and yet, still a bit of hope, "maybe we’ll be buried alive next week. You never know.”


End file.
